The End Is Here
by jklknight
Summary: The BAU is called in to investigate a brutal case that could put a few of them in danger as well.
1. Chapter 1

"Two dead in three days in Charlottesville, Virginia," Hotch announced, walking into the room with case files in hand.

"Good morning to you too," Rossi muttered under his breath, taking one of the folders.

"Garcia?" Hotch ignored the older agent's comment and gestured to the tech analyst, who quickly picked up the remote for the monitor.

"Hello, crime fighters," Garcia greeted the room before flashing several pictures on the TV. "Here we have Samantha Atkins, 31, and Erin Sanderson, 29, both killed and found in rooms covered with papers all with the same message."

"'The end is here,'" Morgan read aloud.

"That's right," Garcia continued. "And, each victim has something terrible done to them that I don't quite have the appetite to explain."

"The unsub brutally beat the victims, then carved out words in their stomachs," Hotch explained, as the agents thumbed through the files. "'THE' on Samantha Atkins's stomach, and 'END' on Erin Sanderson's."

"Then I assume he's trying to finish his message?" JJ asked.

Hotch nodded. "Which is why we need to finish this case up quickly. He's on an accelerated timeline, and we'll have at least two more victims on our hands if we don't catch him."

"Both of these sites are right next to graveyards," Reid noted, carefully observing the map of Charlottesville.

"This guy's really trying to hammer home his message," Emily said. "The end is here…"

"It could be about death and loss," Reid began to speak. "We can't say much given that there's only two instances, though. It could be a message about the end of an event, the end of something he's doing, or even the end times."

"Nothing seems to suggest anything religiously motivated though," JJ bounced back.

"True," the young doctor agreed, looking at a scan of the messages in the rooms. "There's something extremely ritualistic about the way that he covers the rooms though. They're individual pieces of paper, each typed up on a typewriter, then laid out in a near-perfect grid fashion. It's obsessive and repetitive, and that in itself can be seen as some sort of spiritual or emotional act."

"So he's organized to an extreme," Morgan summarized. "But the carving on the stomach is disorganized and messy. If he really was methodical about it all, he would've been more careful."

"Not exactly," Reid countered, looking closely at the photos. "The mess isn't the cleanest, but this definitely isn't his first time doing something similar. He has very deliberate cuts meant to cause immense pain, as well as to write out his message."

"And the beatings too," Emily added. "Violence and torture to this degree doesn't usually show up in organized killers. These hits look rage-induced."

"So maybe he's calm and calculating while planning his kill," JJ theorized. "He carefully prepares the paper and sets up the rooms. But when he gets to his victim, he's filled with anger and lashes out at them."

Rossi nodded. "If that's the case, he's a seemingly normal citizen any given day, but he flies off the handle and gets angry at the smallest of things. Maybe the victims did something in their interactions with him to piss him off."

"If this is about anger, why take the time to surround it with a message?" Morgan asked.

"We'll find out more when we get to Charlottesville," Hotch said. "We'll head out in 20 minutes. When we get there, Rossi and I will set up at the station. Emily and JJ, take a look at the bodies. Reid and Morgan, talk to the families and see if you can find anything."

* * *

"Samantha Atkins and Erin Sanderson." The woman at the morgue was friendly and bubbly, a harsh contrast to the general atmosphere of her workplace.

Emily sucked in a breath through her teeth at the sight of the wounds on the two women.

"It never gets easier," she muttered to JJ.

The blonde beside her nodded, eyebrows furrowed as she observed the fierce lines and letters marking the victims' stomachs.

"Samantha's throat was slit," Emily noted.

"That was her cause of death," the woman explained. "The other woman bled out from the wounds on her stomach."

"So he goes from a quicker kill to watching the victim die suffering from the injuries he's inflicted," JJ said.

"No signs of struggle? Or anything in their system to sedate them?" Emily asked.

The technician shook her head. "The trauma from the beatings were probably enough to weaken the women before the attacks on their stomachs."

"The end is here," JJ murmured to herself, thinking.

Emily peered at the scars spelling out 'THE.' "Any idea what he used to do this?" she asked the morgue worker.

"That's another thing," she replied. "The cuts on Samantha Atkins were much cleaner and quicker than those on Erin Sanderson."

"A different unsub?" JJ asked.

"Not exactly," the woman said. "It's a different tool. The precision and hand of the second attack is the same, but whatever tool he used this time around was much rougher and slower, which makes sense as to why she succumbed to her injuries, rather than a cut to the carotid."

"So either he lost his original tool and needed to improvise," Emily hypothesized, "or he's prolonging the process with a different weapon to cause more pain."

"Geez," JJ muttered. "Either way, this guy knows how to use his tools well. He has some sort of experience with this."

"Let's get these reports back to the team," Emily said. "Thank you so much."

The morgue worker nodded in return as the two women left, looking back one last time at the bodies on the tables, marred and broken from their brutal attacks.

"Are you okay?" JJ asked, as they exited the building, looking to her friend in concern.

"Yeah," Emily muttered. "There was just something about those mutilations in particular that made it harder to look at."

JJ nodded. The team saw their fair share of gruesome images and bodies in every case, but the desensitization wasn't always an effective route.

* * *

Hotch looked up at the pair as they entered the station, drawing eyes from the Charlottesville police force.

"Anything from the morgue?" he asked.

Emily handed him the reports. "A different tool was used on Erin Sanderson than on Samantha Atkins. She bled out from her injuries on her abdomen, and the first victim died from a sliced carotid artery."

"Other than that, no struggle, no sedatives, and no clue as to what the message means," JJ summarized.

"Reid and Morgan are on their way back from the families soon," Hotch reported. "Hopefully they were able to find something."

"Coffee?" Rossi's voice rang out behind the two women, a glorious phrase to which the pair responded gratefully, hands reached out for the wonderful caffeinated beverage.

Behind him, the remaining two BAU agents marched in, a quiet conversation between them.

"Please tell me you two found something talking to their families," Emily said, eager for a break in the case.

Morgan shook his head. "They were both kind, charismatic women. Well-liked, steady jobs, lots of friends. Both were described as being extremely compassionate to people. But nothing concrete that connects them."

"We did our best to retrace the two women's steps the days leading up to their deaths, but there's nothing in common," Reid added.

"Maybe we'll find out more at the sites they were found," Hotch said, rising out of his chair and preparing to leave.

At the door, Hotch shook the hand of a policeman. "Detective Harmon, these are agents Prentiss, Jareau, Reid, and Morgan, who you didn't meet earlier. Do you have another detective to spare to take agents Prentiss, Morgan, and Rossi to the site where Erin Sanderson was found while the rest of us go see the first site?"

"Actually, Agent Hotchner, you may have to spare another few agents yourself," the detective responded.

"What do you mean?"

"Another girl was just found."

* * *

R&R


	2. Chapter 2

Hotch furrowed his brow.

"Another girl? It's only been a day," Morgan noted.

"Let me guess," Rossi raised a hand. "She has the word 'IS' carved into her abdomen."

The detective grimaced. "Come see for yourself. I told the guys not to clean up the scene just yet."

* * *

"This place is a maze," JJ muttered as she turned yet another corner.

Beside her, Emily drew a breath as she saw a room covered from floor to ceiling in the ominous messages they had previously only seen in photographs and evidence bags.

"He must have scouted out the places beforehand or known them somehow," she said.

"Makes you wonder how these bodies were found," JJ said. She turned toward Hotch. "Did the detective mention who called these in?"

Hotch shook his head. "We'll have to check on that. These women would've been reported missing fairly quickly, but all of these buildings should have been abandoned."

"One of the walls isn't covered," Reid said softly from the other side of the room.

"What'd you say, Reid?" Emily called from the other corner, her gaze transfixed on the blood spatters on the floor. The last victim's body lay covered in a white sheet.

"Only three of the walls are covered in paper," Reid repeated, pacing to the center of the room. "It was like this for the other ones too, but now it's a pattern, not a coincidence."

"Why leave one wall empty?" Hotch narrowed his eyes at the open space.

"Well he certainly doesn't care about saving paper," JJ gestured at the rest of the room. "It's like he's leaving it open for something."

She turned her head to see if Emily had any input and found the brunette still staring at the covered body and its surrounding blood. "Emily?" JJ said carefully. "What are you thinking?"

Emily looked up as if she had just realized where she was. "The blood is relatively localized," she began slowly. "He has a pretty big room to work with, but it looks like all the torture and killing was done in one space. If the victims' bodies showed no signs of sedatives or binding, how did they not try to run away or break free from him beating them?"

"Head trauma maybe? All the victims had it to some degree," Reid guessed. "We still haven't really figured out how he gets them here. But it's bound to be pretty noticeable if he drags a body into a building."

Rossi and Morgan walked into the room, followed closely by Detective Harmon.

"Her name's Kayla Torrance," Detective Harmon announced, and the agents looked up. "She was 28 years old. The word 'IS' is carved onto her stomach, and they say it looks to be the same tool as he used for Erin Sanderson."

"The rest of the building is clear," Morgan reported. "It's really just this room."

"So what's so special about this building and this room then?" Rossi asked aloud.

"So far, the main similarities are that they're all abandoned buildings in close proximity to a graveyard," Reid summarized. "Then he covers three of the walls in a room of the building with his message, chooses his victim, beats her brutally, and carves the message in her body, leaving her to die here."

"Thanks for the summary," Rossi muttered.

"If he's sticking to his message, we have only one victim left until the unsub declares that the end is here. I don't quite want to see exactly what he means by the end," Hotch said. "Reid and Rossi, check out the site of Erin Sanderson's killing. Morgan and I will take a look at the other one, see if we can find some more similarities between these locations. Prentiss, JJ, can you guys head back to the station with what we have and start talking to the detectives about canvassing the area?"

The agents nodded and began to go their separate ways.

JJ turned to her friend as they walked out together. "Emily, you okay? Ever since we started looking into this case, you've been a little off."

Emily took a deep breath. "It's not just the case," she said. "I don't know why, but I can't help but feel like something bad is going to happen. I guess staring at dead bodies all day long isn't exactly helping."

JJ nodded. "Hopefully getting back to the station will do us some good. And someone had to have seen something. I'm sure we'll get this case closed soon."

"I hope you're right."

JJ cast another worried glance at her friend before the two of them left the room of the latest murder.

* * *

"Agents," Detective Harmon called, as JJ and Emily walked into the station.

"Detective," JJ greeted. "Any news?"

"Someone called in, claiming to have witnessed something with the last victim at a nearby coffeeshop," Detective Harmon said, handing JJ a notepad. "My detectives have talked to him over the phone already, but I told him that you guys may want to chat with him as well."

"Thanks, detective. I'll go check it out in person, and Agent Prentiss can help your folks out with some further canvassing in the neighborhood."

"That'd be great. My men still don't really know what kind of person we're looking for," the detective laughed.

Emily smiled. "Hopefully we can help you out with that."

* * *

R&R


	3. Chapter 3

"The scenes look pretty similar to me," Rossi muttered, surveying the room. "See anything new, Reid?"

"Three walls covered again," Reid noted. "There's a bit more, er, blood square footage on the floor, so there's a chance that Kayla Torrance was more subdued than Erin Sanderson was. What Emily said still holds true though, the unsub is primarily sticking to one particular area in the room to torture his victims."

"But no sedatives or bindings on any of the victims. He had to subdue them by beating them more," Rossi said, grimacing.

"We guessed it may have been due to the head trauma," Reid remembered.

"So he subdues them first, head trauma," Rossi thought aloud, pacing the room. "Then takes them to a particular room, where three walls are already set up. He takes them here, center stage, and beats them further. Then when they're nearing the end, he takes out another tool to slice and dice a word into their abdomens."

"Wait, what did you say?" Reid turned around, suddenly on high alert.

"I said a lot there, kid. You're gonna have to be more specific," Rossi retorted.

"Center stage…" Reid muttered, ignoring the older agent's snark.

"I-I think our unsub's a writer," Reid suddenly said, speaking more quickly. "I-It makes sense. The typed notes, the organization, the victims in one area. The notes are set up on three walls as a stage, as set decoration, and the fourth wall left empty for someone, not something. It's for the audience. The unsub has decorated a scene, and he's acting out his murders for an audience."

"In that case, I don't want to see what happens when 'The end is here' and the curtains go down," Rossi said, taking off his gloves and getting ready to leave. "Good job, kid. Call Hotch, we're heading back to the station."

* * *

"Hey," Emily said, as she walked into the back of the station, where Hotch, Morgan, Rossi, and Reid had reconvened. "You called and said there was a breakthrough?"

Hotch nodded and placed his phone on the table.

"Hello, my lovelies," Garcia's voice called through the speaker.

"Garcia, can you look around and see if there are any writers that fit our profile so far?" Reid said. "Specifically playwrights, see if there's any of those in the area."

"Playwrights?" Emily said with a raised eyebrow. "Where does he come up with these?"

Morgan chuckled. "I trust our resident genius."

"Mmm, you're gonna have to be more specific than that," Garcia reported. "There's a handful of playwrights, but really anyone can call themselves a writer these days so I'm gonna need some help narrowing it down."

Rossi looked to their evidence board. "See if there's anything in connection with that phrase 'The end is near.' Any recent deaths, diagnoses, drastic life changes."

"Let's see, there's- oh. Oh, this might be your guy," Garcia's hopeful voice turned sorrowful as she read off his information. "Walter Ashe, 37 years old. He used to be a playwright and set decorator until he was diagnosed with terminal cancer two weeks ago, and he's been hard to track down ever since."

"Sounds like that could be our guy," Hotch said. He looked around at the team. "Where's JJ?"

"She went to talk to a witness the station said called in before I left to canvass with the detectives," Emily looked down at her watch. "But that was almost three hours ago."

"Give her a call, please," Hotch ordered. "Garcia, could you send us the home address of Ashe?"

"Already done."

"JJ's phone is going straight to voicemail," Emily said, fear beginning to creep into her voice. "Could something be wrong?"

"Let's try not to jump to conclusions," Hotch said, though worry showed on his face as well. "Could you guys check out Walter Ashe's address? Emily and I will chat with the detectives and gather whatever information they had about the witness JJ was going to talk to and try to pay him a visit."

Morgan and Rossi nodded, dragging Reid away from staring at the evidence board and out of the station.

"Hotch-," Emily began.

"I know, Emily," Hotch interrupted. "It's definitely not like her, but it won't do us any good to worry prematurely."

Emily chewed nervously on a fingernail.

"Detective Harmon," Hotch called as the man walked by. "Have you seen Agent Jareau?"

The detective shrugged. "I haven't seen her since she went to talk the witness. I assumed she had some sort of breakthrough that you guys went to chase down."

"Could you give us the information you had on that witness?"

"Sure, although Agent Jareau probably gathered some more helpful information, what with you guys being FBI agents and all," Detective Harmon said, turning to sift through folders on his desk. "The witness seemed mighty excited that we called in the big guns. Said maybe all of this could finally come to an end. I told him I was looking forward to getting this solved too."

Hotch's brow furrowed as the detective spoke.

"Here's the address and phone transcript," Detective Harmon said, handing Hotch a short file before walking away.

"'Maybe all of this could finally come to an end?'" Emily echoed. "Hotch, that sounds…"

Emily trailed off, afraid to complete her sentence.

Hotch glanced at the file and the address inside. Concern was immediately evident on his normally stoic face.

"Hotch?" Emily was almost afraid to speak.

"It's the address that Morgan, Reid, and Rossi went to," Hotch said quietly. "Walter Ashe has her, but my guess is that they're not there anymore."

Emily's blood ran cold. JJ was in danger.

Hotch pulled out his phone. "Garcia? Could you look up abandoned buildings near cemeteries in the area please?"

"Ooh, are you guys on the hunt already? That was fast," the oblivious tech goddess responded. "Let's see, gonna have to narrow it down, there's actually quite a lot going on."

"See if any have connections to Walter Ashe, please. His last location would have to mean something to him."

"Okay…possibly two," Garcia said after a few clicks. "First, an abandoned power plant where our friend Walter has written a lot of angry articles blaming the plant for his cancer. Second, an old theatre where he wrote and produced a few of his plays."

"Thank you, could you send those addresses to Prentiss, Morgan, Reid, and Rossi, please?" Hotch requested.

"What about JJ?" Garcia asked, typing quickly to send the information through.

Hotch remained silent.

The keyboard noises on the other end also stopped.

"Hotch?" Garcia said slowly. "What about JJ? Earlier when she wasn't there…"

"JJ is missing," Hotch replied quietly. "We'll let you know when we find her."

He quickly hung up as the tech analyst on the other end began to speak again.

Emily looked up, fear in her eyes.

"Go to the address of the theatre. I'll go check out the other site and send Morgan after you. Don't do anything until you have backup."

* * *

R&R


	4. Chapter 4

Emily took a deep breath and steadied herself as she sat behind the wheel of the car. Her mind was reeling with all the possibilities of finding JJ brutally injured or dead, but instead she shook her head and turned the ignition.

Her heart raced as the car bumped along down the road towards the theatre, a rather short drive from the police station.

* * *

The exterior of the building was rather nondescript, and with its abandonment, no longer had anything to glorify the beauty of the plays and shows that were once performed within the theatre. Yet there was a sense of grandeur about its stature, and Emily found herself catching her breath when she looked up.

Emily stepped outside of the car and gently closed the door behind her as she scoured the building's entrances. She pulled out her phone to find no updates from the team.

Emily bit her lip. She had seen what this serial killer could do. If JJ was in that building, she had no time to waste to wait for backup to arrive. With a deep breath, Emily pulled out her gun and made her way through the front entrance of the theatre.

The lobby was probably once beautiful and grand, now only a remnant of its magnificence. Still, it was a large and open space, and Emily was now uncertain of her choice to attempt to clear the building all by herself. She made her way clumsily up the stairs, checking all around her for possible dangers, clearing the bar in the corner before securing the rest of the second floor.

Doors on the second floor led into the back of the main theatre, and Emily felt a flood of nostalgia for all of the memories in her young adult life, going to concerts with friends and searching for seats or at least some standing room in the front.

Only now, each row held the possibility of a terrible threat, and the high ceilings of the theatre made Emily feel more exposed than ever. She once again considered her decision to enter alone and thought of the ease with which a team of agents could have cleared the room compared to what she was doing now.

As she slowly cleared one row at a time, Emily was surprised to feel tears leap to her eyes. She was terrified of not finding JJ, but worse still, she was terrified more so of finding JJ's body, beaten and on the edge of death. So with every row of seats, Emily felt another rollercoaster of emotions.

Emily made her way down the hundreds of rows towards the open stage, eyes and ears on high alert for any trouble. She clambered awkwardly onto the stage, turning to face the endless sea of old seats spread before her. The thrill that most artists must have felt performing in front of such a crowd was replaced by an incredible anxiety and fear that permeated the case.

Emily suddenly heard the flutter of the curtain behind her, and before she could react, a strong pair of arms made her lose her grip on her gun, sending it flying off the stage. Emily felt a heavy force come across her head, and for a moment, she saw stars. The arms wrapped around her body, immobilizing her completely.

"Don't worry, you'll get to stay awake for the show," a gruff voice muttered in her ear, before Emily was carried off the stage. "Some of them aren't so lucky."

She was shoved into a seat, and in a flash, her limbs were tied to the chair.

"Front row seats," the voice came again. Sitting down, Emily could see Walter Ashe's face now, as he smiled down at her and placed a gag in her mouth. He was a large man and was plenty strong, but Emily could see that his sickness had taken a toll on him, both physically and emotionally.

"Well it was only a matter of time before you guys came for her," he said. "But you made it so much easier by coming alone."

For a moment, he disappeared backstage, and Emily took the time to tug desperately at the ropes tying her to the chair. If her legs hadn't been tied, Emily would have kicked herself once more for choosing to come in to the theatre alone, against Hotch's orders. Her gun lay useless on the floor a few feet away, mocking her as she sat helplessly in the chair.

Ashe smiled widely as he reappeared on the stage with the flourish of a curtain, and in his arms, Emily could see a body, bruised and unconscious.

JJ.

Emily's eyes widened and she strained against her ropes again, screaming incoherently through her gag. Ashe stood and spoke loudly to the empty theatre over Emily's muffled noises.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to my last show. It's been a long time since I've had a real audience, but we've got someone really special here tonight," he smiled down at Emily. "Over all these years, it's been a wonderful run, but I'm afraid my time is running up, what with the cancer and everything. But I invite you all to sit back, relax, enjoy the show, and embrace the fact, as I have, that the end is here."

* * *

R&R


	5. Chapter 5

Emily stared on in horror as Walter Ashe ceremoniously lay JJ's body onto the floor of the stage. He waved his arm, and Emily watched as the curtains fell away, revealing a wall of papers with Ashe's deadly message typed on each one.

Emily felt her heart beating wildly, knowing what was about to come.

"Jennifer, my dear," he whispered, kneeling to cradle her face in one hand and shake her shoulder gently with the other. "It's time to wake up."

Emily sighed in relief as JJ stirred and opened her eyes slowly. At least she was alive still. JJ winced slightly at the man's touch, yet it was clear that the normally fiery agent was too weak to move, much less fight him off. Emily felt a wave of rage come over her, as she tried not to think about the extent to which this man had hurt her friend.

A smile broke out over Walter Ashe's face as he stood upright again, looking down at his latest victim.

"Good morning," he said to JJ in a sickeningly sweet tone. "It's showtime."

He drew back his leg and kicked JJ sharply in the ribs, and a slight cry rang out as she curled up in defense. Emily tugged at the ropes, feeling them scrape against her arms. Yet her struggling proved fruitful as the loosely tied gag fell from her mouth.

Anger washed over Ashe's face as he grabbed JJ's wrists up, untangling her from her defensive stance and throwing her torso against the ground. He delivered another fierce kick to her ribs.

"Stop it!" Emily cried out, a frantic plea that she knew would be useless.

For the first time, JJ seemed to notice Emily, and her head turned feebly towards the seats of the theatre and to her friend. Emily met her gaze, and her heart broke seeing the normally electric blue eyes having turned dull and lifeless.

Walter Ashe's laugh rang out across the theatre.

"I love audience participation," he inhaled deeply in pleasure. "It really makes the performance come alive."

With renewed vigor, Ashe returned joyfully to kicking, now throwing in the occasional punch. Emily pulled harder and more urgently at her binds with every attack. Perhaps it was her imagination, but the cords seemed to loosen ever so slightly.

JJ's eyes were now clenched tightly in pain, as her attacker grabbed her body and slammed it onto the ground, the thud echoing through the walls of the theatre. He stood again, breathing hard, and reached his hand into his back pocket.

Emily's eyes widened as the man drew forth a serrated knife, then used his foot to roll JJ's body so she was flat on her back.

"No. No! Please! Stop!" Emily screamed, pulling with all her strength against the ropes that tied her down. There was no doubt now that the binds were loosening, but she was still not free.

Ashe ignored Emily's protests and proceeded to kneel down beside JJ's body. JJ's eyes were barely slits now, and Emily half hoped that she was not conscious enough to feel what was going on.

Emily's eyes slammed shut as the knife plunged into JJ's abdomen, and she heard the other agent gasp in pain as the air was expelled from her lungs.

Emily opened her eyes as tears began streaming down her face. She forced herself to watch as Ashe slowly and dramatically carved the first of his letters into JJ's stomach.

Three strokes for an H.

"Come on," Emily muttered to herself as she pulled again at the cords around her arms. Almost there. She could hear JJ's ragged breathing as if it were impossibly close.

Four strokes for an E.

Ashe's face was a mask of anger, his full attention on the masterpiece he was painting on JJ's torso. His fierce gaze looked only to the crude lines across her body and the blood that streamed from them, not noticing as the other agent finally undid the ropes that had tied her to the theatre seat.

Four strokes for an R.

Emily dove across the floor to her gun, and at the commotion, Walter Ashe finally looked up from his work. As he did, a gunshot rang out, and his body fell backwards, dead. The knife clattered to the floor, and a new pool of blood flowed from the bullet hole in Ashe's chest.

Emily leapt onto the stage with astonishing speed, moving quickly to attempt to stem the flow of blood from JJ's wounds.

"Oh god, JJ," Emily breathed as she knelt beside her friend. She hovered with uncertainty, the cuts too numerous to apply pressure to with only her two hands.

JJ opened her mouth as if to speak, but no sound came out.

_Em_, she mouthed before returning to gasping for air.

"Shh, JJ, it's okay. It's okay," Emily replied, doing nothing to stop the tears from falling now. "Just keep breathing, just keep breathing."

Emily's hands were pressed to the three large letters on JJ's abdomen, yet she watched helplessly as blood seeped out from underneath anyway.

JJ's eyes struggled to stay open, and Emily pressed down harder.

"No, no. Come on, JJ. Stay awake for me, okay? Keep those eyes open. Please, JJ," Emily pleaded, her voice breaking.

JJ's eyes opened, but a new expression had come over them, one that Emily had never before seen on her. Complete helplessness and hopelessness. JJ was giving up.

"Emily!" Morgan's voice rang out from the other side of the theatre, and Emily heard his footsteps sprinting down toward the stage.

"I'm sorry, JJ," Emily choked out. "I'm so sorry."

JJ's eyes met Emily's, and she shook her head ever so slightly.

"Emily," Morgan breathed behind her as he approached the pair.

"Where's the ambulance?" Emily's voice rose in anguish and anger. "Where's the fucking ambulance?! Where were you?!"

"The ambulance is here too," Morgan said quietly, leaving the last question unanswered, the two of them knowing full well he had done everything he could to arrive as quickly as he could.

Soon enough, a team of medical personnel eased JJ out from under Emily's hands and hurried away in a flurry of activity, leaving Emily still kneeling on the stage, JJ's blood still freshly painted over her hands.

Behind her, Morgan stood, uncertain. In front of her, two pools of blood. Around her, the papers still proclaimed the same message, over and over again.

The end is here. The end is here. The end is here.

Yet Walter Ashe's final message remained incomplete, with JJ rushed away to the hospital, clinging desperately to life, only three of the four intended letters carved.

The end is her.

* * *

R&R


	6. Chapter 6

"Emily," Morgan finally said again.

The pair had remained on the stage for what felt like an eternity, the fate of their coworker and friend still uncertain.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up," Morgan knelt down beside Emily, taking her blood-covered hands into his.

Emily looked up and finally met his eyes with her tear-stained ones, her expression dull and tired. With Morgan's help, she stood and made her way out of the theatre.

The sunlight outside blinded her, a sharp contrast to the darkness of the theatre and the somber tone of recent events. Emily gingerly made her way to the shotgun seat of the car and stared down at the blood on her hands, noticing for the first time how badly they were shaking.

"We'll get you cleaned up at a hotel," Morgan said as he entered the car from the other side.

He glanced over, but Emily said nothing.

* * *

The ride to the hotel was filled with a terrible silence, and Emily hardly noticed as Morgan checked them in and led her up to a room.

"Go ahead, I'll be right outside," Morgan said, gesturing to the bathroom. His voice sounded far away to Emily, yet she obeyed naturally, her mind still in a daze.

The water from the shower shocked her, breaking through the thick cloud in her head. She shivered and watched as the stream cleansed away the blood, sweat, and tears of the day. Emily couldn't tell if her face was soaked from the shower or if she had started crying again.

After what felt like an hour, yet in reality was probably half that, Emily stepped out of the shower. She wrapped a towel tightly around her body and exited the bathroom, grateful to see Morgan's back turned as he spoke on the phone and a spare set of clothing from the car folded neatly on the bed.

"JJ's in surgery, and the rest of the team's at the hospital," Morgan said, after Emily had changed. "You should get some rest first."

Emily shook her head, still not trusting herself to speak aloud.

"Emily," Morgan pleaded.

She shook her head once again, more defiantly this time, and tears sprung to her eyes. How could she rest? If she slept now, all she would see was JJ, beaten and bloody, the deeds of Walter Ashe evident all across her body.

Thankfully, Morgan's expression softened. He sat down on the hotel bed and offered Emily a space next to him. Ashe's binds had left marks on her wrists, and she rubbed them nervously as she sat.

"You want to talk about it?"

Emily shook her head.

"You want to take your mind off it?"

Another no.

"You want to stay here?"

A pause this time, then a slight shake of the head.

"You want to go join the team at the hospital?"

Emily nodded.

* * *

Emily held her breath as they entered the hospital, joining the rest of the team in the waiting room. They turned to look at her, but thanks to a warning look from Morgan, knew better than to ask what happened. Emily sat and stared straight ahead, her mind still paralyzed and replaying what she had seen.

Two hours passed, and she watched as Garcia began to doze off, resting her head on Morgan's shoulder.

Hotch rose as a doctor approached the team.

"Are there any updates on Agent Jareau?"

"She's still in surgery," the doctor reported. "We know you're concerned about your team member, but we think it's best that you head home. Hospital visiting hours are ending soon, and we still have several hours to go on her surgery."

Hotch narrowed his eyes. "We're concerned about the wellbeing of our agent and friend, and we'd like to stay until we know she's better, if that's alright."

"Sir, I understand, but we'll keep you updated. We know you mean well, but she still has a long way to go for surgery."

"Do you think she'll be okay?" Reid's voice was quiet, but audible.

"It's hard to say," the doctor responded. "She suffered extensive injuries, and we won't know more for a while. But for now, there's nothing more you can do here. You can come back tomorrow morning when visiting hours resume."

Hotch nodded slightly and turned towards the team as the doctor left. "You heard him. Go home, get some rest, and take care of yourselves. I'll ask for updates as they get them, and we'll regroup tomorrow."

"Hey," Morgan said, turning to Emily. "Why don't you crash on the couch at my place tonight? I really don't think you should be alone tonight."

Emily opened her mouth to speak, wanting to argue that she could take care of herself, but instead, she nodded her head, still not trusting herself to speak and realizing then that she really didn't want to be alone that night.

* * *

"Emily."

A pause.

"Emily, wake up."

Emily hadn't even realized she had fallen asleep, but as her eyes opened, she found herself on the couch of Morgan's home, the sun streaming through the window. Somehow she had slept through the night. She looked over to her concerned friend standing above her.

Emily raised her hand to rub her eyes and was surprised to feel tears on her face. She had been crying in her sleep. What had she been dreaming about?

Someone important to her. Something terrible had happened. Blood and tears, and-

JJ.

No, it hadn't been a dream.

All of it had really happened.

Dreams had only served to keep the memory of it alive and tormenting her.

Emily furiously wiped the tears off her face and looked back at Morgan expectantly as she sat up.

"Hotch called. Hospital visiting hours are in a bit. JJ's not awake yet, but she's out of surgery," Morgan said gently. "Do you want to come along?"

Emily shook her head slightly.

Morgan stared at her, confused, then took a seat beside her.

"I know now isn't the best time, but I talked to Hotch about what happened…what happened after I arrived," Morgan began. "I know you had your reasons for doing what you did, but going in alone and disobeying direct orders to wait for backup, putting another agent's life in danger…"

Emily looked down at the floor, not saying anything.

"Hotch said you may be suspended for a while, and there's no telling what will happen."

Emily closed her eyes.

"Emily," Morgan put his hand on her shoulder, and she met his eyes. "She's going to be okay. And you are too. But you can't keep it all inside you forever, you're gonna have to talk about what happened eventually. Even if it's just to explain your side of things."

Emily finally spoke, her voice cracking as she whispered, "I can't."

Morgan stared at her for a bit, then stood and picked up his jacket. "Okay," he said quietly. "I hope you change your mind. I'm going to see JJ, call me if you decide you want to join."

Emily stared guiltily as he left, tears rising up in her eyes again.

* * *

R&R


	7. Chapter 7

A knock on the door.

Emily glanced over but did nothing to move from her spot on the couch, staring at the ceiling. Several hours had passed since Morgan left for the hospital, and all Emily could do was replay the scenes of the previous day in her head.

Her impulsive decision to enter the theatre alone. Her fearful walk down the rows of seats. Walter Ashe tying her to the chair. Walter Ashe's speech. Walter Ashe beating JJ. Walter Ashe taking out his knife and…

JJ's body…

The blood…

JJ's eyes…

Another knock on the door, this time louder and harder.

Emily rose slowly in a daze and opened the door.

Hotch.

"Emily," he greeted. "May I come in?"

She blinked, uncertain, then stepped aside to allow his entrance.

"May I ask why you're the only one who hasn't been in to visit JJ?" Hotch asked as he took off his jacket.

When no reply came, Hotch sat on the couch and gestured for Emily to sit next to him.

"Look, I can't begin to understand what happened inside of that theatre," Hotch said carefully. "But JJ is alive. I know she's not awake, but she needs you to help her fight-"

"I can't, Hotch," Emily interrupted, her voice hoarse. "I can't face her."

Hotch sat silently next to Emily as she did her best to steady her shaking hands.

"She gave up, Hotch. Through every beating and every cut from Walter Ashe, she had fought to stay alive. But at the end of it all, the look on her face and in her eyes. I'll never forget. She didn't want to fight anymore. She gave up. If that happened because of what I did, I can't face her. I can't."

Emily let the tears flow freely down her face. She stared down at her balled fists, refusing to meet Hotch's eyes. A heavy silence followed before Hotch spoke.

"JJ wasn't supposed to make it. Her heart had stopped in surgery, and the doctors thought she wasn't going to survive her injuries."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Emily, the only reason JJ is alive right now is because she fought to live," Hotch explained. "Her mind found a reason to live on, and her body fought for it. And she's still fighting now. She hasn't given up yet, so don't give up on her either."

Emily looked up at Hotch, a faint sense of relief beginning to grow in her eyes.

"I'm still suspended though, aren't I?" she asked.

Hotch furrowed his brow. "I understand why you did what you did. But yes, you're suspended for now," his expression softened again. "I suggest you take your time off to spend at the hospital, being by JJ's side as she heals."

He stood, gesturing in invitation for Emily to come along.

Emily took a deep breath and followed Hotch into the car and to the hospital.

* * *

R&R


End file.
